Sweet Supreme (Vices and Confessions)
by Naza
Summary: Yohji's haunted by a dream and a memory, and Ken has some vices he'd like to share. (That's a really bad summary. It's not really how the story goes.) A wee bit o' shonen-ai at the end, sort of. It's so subtle, I don't even think it deserves a warning. o.


Hihi! Naza here, with another story for the lot of you. This one is my longest yet and possibly my stupidest. I was aiming for something poetic, perhaps with a tinge of angst and yaoi, but I got this pointless piece of sap. *rolls her eyes* Oh well. I was in the car surrounded by my family anyway, so there was no way I could write yaoi. I put in a bit of shonen-ai at the end, but other than that it's just a bunch of attempted angst and headache-inducing fluff. Also, as a side note, I was listening to weird music while writing this, and I also have never actually seen any Weiss Kreuz. o.o;; Not one tape. All I know are the spoilers I've encountered on web sites and stuff from friends. So if some of this information about Asuka is off or anything, just email me and tell me: naza@schuldich.zzn.com. Other than that, enjoy, if you can. @@;;;  
  
PS: The title was a suggestion from a friend. I like it, but I was looking for something shorter. If you have any ideas, you know what to do. ^^;;  
  
Standard disclaimers apply.  
  
- - -  
SWEET SUPREME (Vices and Confessions)  
Naza  
- - -  
  
The fog curled around his ankles, tightening, cold and wet. It moved over his calves, seeping into the skin, dampening the cloth of his jeans. But he was not afraid.  
  
Yohji smiled into the darkness, his green eyes shining. His glasses were tucked over the rise of his forehead, keeping his shiny chestnut hair out of his perfect face. He arched one rich dark eyebrow as if in mockery of the murkiness before him. "What are you trying to do, scare me?" he asked, his tone amused. "I've had this nightmare before. I know what happens. You might as well just go away now."  
  
This dream was always the same, and it always came back to haunt him after missions. It was a void, a void of black and death, and it stank like decay. Yohji could always smell it even after he woke up. It made his eyes water and his stomach lurch. The void had no bottom, no top, no sides, no end. It was one endless black hole of depression. And then, in the middle, waiting for him, was her.  
  
Asuka.  
  
White wings, curled around delicate pale shoulders, dark hair spilling into those radiant eyes. She would stare at him with her soft, beautiful eyes, crystalline tears spilling over and tracking down her pale cheeks. Yohji would reach out, try to touch her, wipe away her tears, wrap her in his arms. But she pulled away, her wings twitching, and turned her nose up. Yohji, he'd smile, a playful smile, and jump forward and try to catch her, and she duck away and laugh at him. Then she would lean forward and press a kiss to his grinning lips, silencing him, and whisper enigmatically, "Live your life."  
  
And then she'd be gone.  
  
Always the same.  
  
Yohji smiled wistfully and shook his head, clucking his tongue. "Jesus, just stop already. I know this dream so well, it tortures me when I'm awake."  
  
He didn't know whom he was talking to. Maybe his subconscious, if it were listening. He hoped so; he could only stand so many reruns of the same dream. Especially when it touched a wound so deep within.  
  
But what did Asuka mean when she said "live your life"? Yohji had spent hours at his window, a cigarette hanging limply from his lips, trying to decode Asuka's soft-spoken words. He was living it, wasn't he? He wasn't dead, though at points he wished he were. He had his place in Weiss, he was happy, for the most part. It wasn't a very joyous type of happy, but at least he wasn't like Aya. At least he could smile, at least he could laugh. At least he wasn't terse and curt and cold.  
  
Although, then again, Yohji didn't have a sister who was mowed down by Schwarz and was in a chronic, perhaps fatal, coma in the hospital.  
Everyone has their reasons.  
  
- - -  
  
  
Ken picked at invisible lint on his bedcover, pinching the tender skin of his wrist every so often to keep himself awake. He refused to let sleep claim him. He was strong, he was an assassin. He could protect himself against anyone. Except, of course, the inevitable.  
  
Sleep.  
  
Yohji, beside him, took a long, luxurious drag on his cigarette. "Tired yet, kid?" he asked, grinning and glancing at Ken.  
  
The younger glared at him and waved the smoke away from his face, swallowing a cough. "What are you up to now, Yohji?"  
  
"Eh?" Yohji blinked.  
  
"That's your... twelfth cigarette?"  
  
Yohji grinned abashedly and blew a cloud of smoke at Ken. "So it's a habit. It's not like you don't have vices, Kenken."  
  
Ken rolled his eyes and slid down the headboard until he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He squinted into the glare of the bare light bulb, concentrating on staying awake. "As a matter of fact, Mr. Kudou, I don't."  
  
Yohji burst out laughing, which elevated into a desperate coughing fit. Yohji rolled on the bed, his arms wrapped around his sides, captured in the throes of hysterics.  
  
Ken made a face. "What's so funny?!"  
  
Yohji took several deep breaths, chuckling helplessly. He dropped his head onto the bedcovers, his chest heaving. "Oh... Kenken... don't do that." He coughed a few more times and wiped messy brown locks out of his eyes.  
  
"Do what?!" Ken asked shrilly, his cheeks flushed. "What in the hell was so funny?!"  
  
Yohji stared at him for a second, then slapped a hand to his mouth and guffawed loudly. Ken groaned in exasperation and kicked him, pouting angrily.  
  
The longhaired assassin rolled off the bed, still laughing.  
  
Ken sighed heavily and flopped onto the bed, then pulled a pillow over his head to try to drown out Yohji's snickers. Within seconds, he was drowning in the dark warmth, sleep overriding all his senses and dragging him into oblivion.  
  
He moaned softly as he felt the mattress creak and tilt with Yohji's weight. "Go 'way," he mumbled. He would forgive Yohji in the morning; now he just needed some sleep.  
  
Yohji grabbed Ken's shoulder and shook it. "Come on, Kenken. You can't sleep yet. Get your lazy head out from under that pillow."  
  
Ken didn't move, but did his best to ignore Yohji.  
  
"Come on, Ken." Yohji shook his shoulder again, a little more urgently this time. "Please. I'm sorry I laughed at you. Please... Ken..."  
  
Ken roused himself and threw the pillow off his head. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes confused as they trained on Yohji. "Yotan?"  
  
Yohji blinked, staring back. "What?"  
  
"Are you okay? You sound kinda... scared." Ken paused. "You're not... afraid of the dark or something, are you?"  
  
Yohji snorted. "Don't be stupid, kid."  
  
"Then what...?" Ken sat up, scrubbing at his eyes. He squirmed closer to Yohji, his face puzzled. "What're you so scared of?"  
  
The older assassin averted his gaze and shrugged wordlessly.  
  
"Come on, Yohji. I'll tell you my bad habits if you tell me what you're afraid of."  
  
This forced a laugh from Yohji, who tried to hide it behind a hand as he glanced up at Ken with coy eyes. "I thought you didn't have any."  
  
"I lied." Ken grinned.  
  
Yohji rolled his eyes and snickered. "Fine. You tell me first."  
  
"No way!" Ken protested shrilly. "I know you, Yohji. You'll drag my secrets out and then you won't tell me yours. You are so going first, you little cheater."  
  
Yohji laughed and rolled over onto his stomach on the mattress. He lay facing Ken, his eyes bright with laughter and face pale with fatigue. "Fine, fine. You want to know why I don't like sleeping?"  
  
Ken nodded softly.  
  
"I can't stand sleeping alone, because then..." Yohji paused and took a breath. He closed his eyes lightly, then fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette.  
  
Ken waited while he lit it, his warm brown eyes traveling over the planes of Yohji's face as they were illuminated by flame. Yohji's hands shook slightly as he cupped the tiny fire.  
  
"What I meant to say was... There's this dream that won't leave me alone." Smoke drifted from Yohji's nose and mouth as he spoke and Ken grinned.  
  
"It's hard to take you seriously when you smoke so much," he told Yohji.  
  
"Huh?" Yohji blinked.  
  
"You look weird when you smoke," Ken replied, coughing to hide a snicker.  
  
Yohji rolled his eyes and took another drag on his cigarette. "Okay, so I told you. Now you -"  
  
"No! No way, Kudou. I'm not letting you go with just that." The soccer player crossed his legs and grabbed Yohji's arm, dragging him closer. "What's the dream about?"  
  
Yohji let himself be tugged, and he dropped down on the mattress next to Ken, staring up at him. "Why do you want to know?"  
  
"'Cause I do. Now tell me."  
  
Yohji sighed, then shrugged. "It's just black in the beginning, and it smells weird, I guess..." He trailed off, then glanced back up at Ken's face. "Aw, come on, you don't want to hear this. It's stupid."  
  
Ken raised an eyebrow. "Tell me. Now."  
  
"Ah, fine. All right, so it's dark. It feels like this big cave, almost, only... well, it's hard to put into words. But it's big. Um, and dark. And it smells really bad. And I stand there, and then I look up, and..." Yohji paused to inhale. He slung his cigarette hand over Ken's knee casually, and Ken stared at it, studying it.  
  
"And?"  
  
Yohji bit his lip. "And... she's there."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Asuka."  
  
Ken had heard Yohji talk of her once or twice, but only with monosyllabic words. He didn't like to talk of his past. He decided not to push it.  
  
"She's got wings, like an angel. I dunno, but I guess that means she made it up to heaven, where she always wanted to go. Too bad I won't be there to see her when I die." Yohji sighed. "But I try to reach out to her, to touch her, but she always gets out of my hands. Slips through my fingers..."  
  
Ken blinked. His eyes could have been playing tricks on him, but he very strongly doubted it.  
  
There was a single tear making its way down Yohji's cheek as he talked.  
  
Ken couldn't remember ever having seen Yohji cry. Maybe he got misty once or twice, but that was it.  
  
"And then... then right before she disappears, she tells me to 'live my life.' I never understood that, but I've been trying to follow her advice as best I can, I guess." Yohji blinked slowly, suddenly seeming to realize he was crying. He slapped a hand to his cheek and sat up quickly, swiping the tears from his cheeks.  
  
But Ken knew. Ken had seen the pain in his deep green eyes.  
  
"Why does it always come back, Yohji?" Ken's voice was small, timid, as if he was afraid to break the harsh silence.  
  
Yohji shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know," he replied hoarsely. "It just wants to mess with my head as much as possible."  
  
Ken was surprised by the bitterness in Yohji's voice. He had never known Asuka was such a vulnerable wound for Yohji. He had known that his past in general was painful, but he guessed time would not be enough to heal this hurt.  
  
Yohji lay back down, but slowly this time, as if giving himself time to compose his features. When he lay next to Ken again, his body heat washing over the soccer player's crossed legs, his face was pale and haggard, but there was no sign of sadness.  
  
"Your turn, Kenken."  
  
Ken blinked, then remembered his promise. He grinned and stretched out next to Yohji, leaning his cheek against the older man's shoulder. Yohji's skin through the cloth was warm and soft.  
  
"I have a tendency to forget people's birthdays." Ken grinned wider, looking up at Yohji. Yohji peered back down at him, an eyebrow raised.  
  
"And I'm a backseat driver."  
  
Yohji snickered.  
  
"And I have a weakness for chocolate ice cream."  
  
Green eyes crinkled in laughter and Ken rolled over and laid his chin on Yohji's chest as he spoke, his smile widening as he spoke.  
  
"And I secretly think about taking up smoking just to piss Aya off."  
  
Ken's mischievous smile softened as color returned to Yohji's cheeks and his eyes lightened again and the heavy silence evaporated.  
  
Yohji leaned his chin in his hand and grinned fondly at Ken, still chuckling softly. "Yeah, but with all your good points, it just sort of cancels each other out."  
  
Ken giggled and nodded. "You bet." His smile turned into a studious yawn and he resumed his place on Yohji's chest. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go to sleep. I'm gonna stay right here, and if your dream comes back, I'll..."  
  
Yohji blinked expectantly.  
  
"I'll chase it away with my bugnuks." Ken bared his teeth and hooked his fingers into claws, taking a mock swipe at Yohji.  
  
The longhaired man rolled his eyes and slapped Ken's hand away. "Whatever."  
  
"See you in the morning, scaredy-cat." Ken snickered.  
  
"Bite me," was the sleepy reply.  
  
"I'll take you up on that."  
  
"Ken. Go to sleep."  
  
"Oh, so now you want me to go to sleep."  
  
"Ken! For Chrissake, shut up and go to sleep."  
  
There was a long pause when both boys' breathing evened out, and Ken was silent, his ear pressed to the flat of Yohji's chest. He could hear his heartbeat, regular and reassuring.  
  
"Yohji?"  
  
"Mm?"  
  
"Good night."  
  
"You too, kiddo. You too."  
  
- - -  
  
Heh. So that's it. Sappy enough for you? .o;; Read and review, please. ^^ 


End file.
